Desires of Contradictory Natures
by MaraudingSnitch1314
Summary: One-shot. Neal celebrates Thanksgiving with his family and friends, but the holiday festivities are marred by his conflicting thoughts and wishes. Set post-"Front Man" through the first day's events of "Out of the Box." No slash. General spoilers.


**Desires of Contradictory Natures**

**Author's Note:** Hello, everyone, and welcome to my Thanksgiving story for _White Collar_. I had been looking forward to writing this fic as soon as I'd completed _Paper Pumpkins and Contemplations_, so I do hope that you all enjoy this one-shot. Herein lie bantering, bonding, and fluffiness, but this piece contains a good dose of angst, as well.

For those who have read _Bittersweet_ and for those who have not, this story _roughly _follows the same timeline. According to my reasoning, if _Out of the Box_ – an episode which spans several days in the White Collar universe – occurred in November, it is highly implausible that Neal could have celebrated Thanksgiving prior to the events of the Season 1 finale, considering the fact that Thanksgiving was celebrated on November 26th, less than a week before the end of the month. Ergo, for the purposes of this story, I have adjusted my timeline to allow for Thanksgiving Day celebrations post-_Front Man_ and pre-_Out of the Box_, which would consequently have taken place in early December. I apologize for the lengthy explanation, but I think I've taken measures against timeline confusion as a result. ^_^

Thank you for reading and please leave a review. I really do appreciate each and every reviewer's comments and constructive criticism.

**Disclaimer:** I claim no rights to anything _White Collar_. If I owned it, would I be waiting until January for more bromance and crime-solving? I thought not. All recognizable dialogue is taken directly from 1.13 _Front Man_ and 1.14 _Out of the Box_.

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_Just remember how it felt when you saw that girl in her father's arms. Moments like that are rare. But if you try to steal the music box, I will catch you._

_Is that a threat?_

_Just the way it is._

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_Just the way it is_, Neal mused for the umpteenth time in the week since he and Peter had rescued Lindsay from Wilkes's clutches. He sat flipping through paperwork at this desk and twirling a pen between his fingers. It had been a week since Alex's most recent cryptic visit, as well, and the suspense of her note and the weight of his conversation with Peter had put Neal more on edge than he liked to be these last several days. Whenever he had a free moment between cases at the Bureau and especially while alone in his apartment at night, Neal's thoughts perpetually shifted to that conversation which marked the last night of feigned ignorance between the two partners.

_You know, you can either go back to wearing an orange jumpsuit and pining for the girl that got away… Or you can stay here and do something good with your life. Your choice._

No more pretending. No more half-hearted hopes that Peter wouldn't figure out what he was trying to accomplish. Neal and Peter had both known, from the start, what their working relationship had been founded upon. Neal had escaped from maximum security to search for Kate. He had negotiated a deal with the FBI in order to garner a semblance of freedom in which he could attempt to unravel the clues in the mystery of "the man with the ring." And now, he was, quite possibly, only one step away from reuniting with her. Eventually, Alex would share the location of the elusive amber music box with him. At that point, it would only be a matter of "acquiring" it and delivering it to Fowler in order to secure his future with Kate – and he would leave this life behind, once and for all.

Wouldn't he?

Neal sighed quietly in frustration. Depositing his pen onto a stack of files, he stood from his chair and made his way toward the kitchenette, opting to stomach the office coffee rather than braving the snowstorm outside on a trek to the nearest café. Again, his mind turned to Peter's words. Regardless of whatever friendship had developed between them, Neal understood that they remained on opposite sides of the law. Peter was an honest man and a dedicated FBI agent and it would be his duty and responsibility to arrest Neal for the theft of the music box.

Neal couldn't fault Peter for his warning. It _wasn't_ a threat; it was simply a statement of facts. Besides, it was better that neither of them harbored any delusions as to the outcome of their partnership. It would be a clean severing of ties.

If only Neal could convince himself to let go. Indecision was not his forte.

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Neal was determined to force himself to lock up his tension and anxiety at home today. Wednesday had arrived and his agenda was filled with preparations for tomorrow night's Thanksgiving festivities. He was going to enjoy himself and, for the first time in weeks, not allow worries about retrieving the music box to overshadow the simple pleasures of his life. Everything was coming together smoothly: Alex had agreed to work with him again, although she had yet to reveal the location of the music box; Mozzie could always be counted on to provide insight and support during a heist; and Peter, while suspicious, was unaware of Neal's plans.

Surprisingly, Peter had allowed Neal to leave the Bureau before three o'clock this afternoon. Neal supposed that Elizabeth must have called her husband to remind him about Neal's offer to help her put together a number of desserts for their get-together at June's home the following evening.

Failing to mask his eagerness behind a genial smile, Neal sauntered across the lobby of the FBI building, deigning to nod to Ruiz as they strode past each other at the entrance.

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"Hi, Neal. Thanks for coming over." Elizabeth ushered him into the Burkes' home, wiping her palms on her green apron before offering him a drink. She smiled. "I hope Peter didn't make a fuss about letting you off work early today."

Neal smirked. "No more than he usually does." Glancing about the inviting kitchen and at the assorted mixing bowls and baking ingredients, he asked, "So, what are we making?"

Elizabeth handed him a dark blue apron. "I was thinking pumpkin and apple pies, one of each. I'll buy some ice cream and cider tonight, too. Sound good?"

Removing his suit jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, Neal grinned. "Sounds delicious. What do you need me to do?"

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For the next few hours, Elizabeth and Neal busied themselves with emptying a pumpkin; washing, peeling, and slicing half a dozen apples; and shaping two pie crusts from scratch. While they worked, Elizabeth spoke of her business and her excitement for the upcoming event she had been planning for the past several months and Neal returned her fervor by regaling her with tales of his days on the run from Special Agent Peter Burke.

Neal marveled at Elizabeth's passion and entrepreneurship, both of which had played a large part in her determination to launch Burke Premiere Events. He complimented her on the success of her business and teased her for marrying someone who turned up his nose at Port because it was too "syrupy," laughing heartily when she sprinkled flour onto his hair in return. Most of all, he reveled in the familiarity of standing side-by-side with someone he cared for in the warmth of a home – and he longed for this same normalcy with Kate.

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Neal finally left Elizabeth to her own devices at around six o'clock. He hailed a cab back to his apartment and changed quickly upon returning, making sure to shake all evidence of flour out of his hair before hurrying downstairs to begin his next task.

Samantha, already bundled up in a thick winter coat and mittens, bounced excitedly by the front door as June pulled on a hat over her granddaughter's many braids. "Neal, you're here!" She turned to her grandmother. "Grandma June, can we go now, please?"

June smiled. "Of course, dear. Do you have the shopping list?" Samantha nodded, producing a long list of groceries from her coat pocket. "Alright, then, you two have fun. You can help me when you get back, Neal."

"Of course, June." Neal kissed her cheek before taking Samantha's hand and opening the front door, the two of them dashing hurriedly through the cold to clamber into the waiting car, waving happily to June from the back seat.

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"Do you want to ride in the cart, Samantha?"

"Yes!"

Neal chuckled, pushing their cart into the well-lit grocery store. "Okay, climb in." He steadied her by the waist as she swung one leg, then the other, into the cart. She settled herself comfortably with her legs crossed in front of her. "You can read me the list. Let me know if you want to get out at any time."

Samantha agreed, then looked about them quickly before whispering conspiratorially, "Neal, will you push me down that aisle really, really fast? Grandma June never does it, but Cindy did once."

"Hmmm," Neal pondered, placing his index finger over his lips thoughtfully. He, too, glanced around the mostly empty store. His eyes twinkled mischievously at his companion. "Alright, there's no one in the frozen foods aisle, so I don't see why not."

Seconds later, the unmistakable sound of rubber wheels flying across vinyl flooring could be heard, coupled with a young girl's delighted cheers.

"That was amazing, Neal! Can we do it again?"

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Neal and Samantha, their arms laden with paper bags, arrived noisily on June's doorstep some time later. She was there to greet them and to relieve her granddaughter of her load. "Thank you for taking care of the groceries, Neal. Samantha, dear, you should go upstairs and take a shower before bed."

"Okay, Grandma June." She flung her arms around Neal's waist for a hug, beaming at him. "I had so much fun, Neal! Thank you!"

He hugged her in return. "I had a lot of fun, too. Good night, Samantha." He and June watched her ascend the stairs before moving into the kitchen. "May I help you with anything, June?"

She gestured for him to take a seat at the dining table, setting out a plate of cookies and pouring each of them a glass of milk. "Thank you, Neal, but I've just finished. You can help me with the cooking tomorrow, though. And, of course, you'll be my dashing host, won't you?" She smiled.

He winked. "It would be my pleasure."

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Soon afterward, Neal retired to his room, unsurprised to find Mozzie dozing on his couch with a book open facedown on his chest. Noting the wineglass sitting on the coffee table next to his friend, Neal rolled his eyes in exasperation and lamented the fact that he had been deprived of yet another bottle of fine wine. He moved to lightly shake Mozzie awake by the shoulder and had to stifle his laughter at Mr. Haversham's knee-jerk reaction: "Hands in the air and don't touch anything!"

"Seriously, Moz? Don't you remember where you fall asleep?"

Mozzie righted himself on the couch, readjusting his glasses and fixing Neal with a pointed stare. "In case you had forgotten, I have perfect recall, _but _one can never be too cautious as to what situation one might find oneself in upon waking."

"Alright, Mozzie, whatever you say." Neal grabbed his pajamas from his dresser and headed for the adjoining bathroom. "You're coming over tomorrow for dinner, right?"

Mozzie nodded. "I wouldn't miss June's cooking for the world. Should I bring anything?"

"You can bring the wine," Neal called from the bathroom.

"I'll be depleting your reserves, then!"

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After finishing a half-bottle of wine and claiming another of Neal's as his contribution to tomorrow night's dinner, Mozzie left for his Wednesday dwelling, and Neal sunk into the welcoming softness of his bed. Clasping his hands beneath his head, he gazed at the ceiling above him, his mind drifting to thoughts of Kate. The last time he had seen her, she had been standing too far away for him to touch. The last time he had heard her voice, she had sounded worried and uncertain. All he had of her now was a worn, creased photograph and the '82 Bordeaux that haunted him every night.

Soon, he vowed. Kate would be in his arms again soon. He could make up for all the years they'd lost and apologize for putting her in such a position to begin with. If she didn't want to stay in New York, they'd leave together and start a new life, wherever she wanted to go – but that would mean living on the run from Peter and Neal didn't want that to happen. He didn't want Peter to be disappointed in him, not after everything they'd come to learn about each other. Peter had offered him a second chance, a chance to _do something good_, and Neal truly appreciated his willingness to wipe the slate clean and his efforts at steering him onto the straight and narrow.

But he loved Kate and the life he wanted had to include her. If it wasn't possible to have it both ways, he would choose her in a heartbeat.

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"Neal, dear, will you check on the turkey, please? I want to start on these potatoes." June motioned to the oven before turning her attention to the potatoes piled in the sink. With the hired help of a chef, June rarely cooked for herself anymore, but on occasions as special as Thanksgiving, she treasured the memories of years past, of those priceless moments spent in the kitchen with her husband and young children.

Neal peeked into the oven, deemed the turkey as yet unready to be removed, and returned to chopping vegetables for the salad just as the doorbell rang. "I'll get it, June." He showed their guests, the Burkes and Satchmo, into the living room, but Elizabeth insisted on joining June in the kitchen, so Neal was left to entertain his partner.

Peter smirked at Neal's apron. "I see June's got you busy today. I think it's good that you're finally paying off your rent."

Neal crossed his arms indignantly. "I seem to remember your wife asking _me_ to help her with dessert, not you. Guess she doesn't trust your abilities in the kitchen." He reached down to scratch Satchmo behind the ears.

"Have you forgotten? Elle loves my pot roast. I make it for her all the time."

"She's never mentioned it. Maybe she's trying to block the memory from her mind."

"I've proven you wrong before, and my palette's just as refined as yours is."

"Oh, yeah, deviled ham and a glass of beer. Good thing there'll be enough leftover turkey to make your sandwiches for weeks."

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An hour later, everyone had taken a seat for dinner and the aromas of turkey and mashed potatoes wafted enticingly to where Bugsy and Satchmo sat together near June's chair at the head of the table. To June's left sat Samantha, Elizabeth, and Peter; on her right, Neal and Mozzie. She smiled at her extended family. "Before we begin eating, I think we should each say what we're thankful for. I'm thankful to have all of you here in my home tonight. You are all a part of our family."

Samantha was next. "I'm thankful that Elizabeth brought apple pie for dessert! I don't like pumpkin." She turned expectantly to her left.

Elizabeth beamed. "You're welcome, Samantha, and thank you for having us, June. I'm thankful for the opportunity to celebrate with friends and family." She grasped Peter's hand, interlacing their fingers.

Peter smiled at his wife and made sure to look into Neal's eyes as he spoke. "I'm thankful for my wonderful wife and to be surrounded with good friends, and I'm thankful that I don't have a case tonight."

Mozzie appeared displeased at having to speak in front of an audience, but he gave his thanks nonetheless. "I'm thankful that Mr. Suit is the only Fed present at this dinner and that none of us were tailed here." There was a round of laughter at his admission.

Neal glanced down briefly at his lap before meeting Peter's gaze across the table, speaking quietly, deliberately. "I'm thankful for everything you've all done for me." He smiled charmingly to ease the seriousness of his statement.

They raised their glasses in a toast. As Peter began carving the turkey and the table dissolved into animated conversation, Neal leaned back in his seat and observed those gathered around him. Not for the first time, he was enveloped in inexplicable happiness. For all the places he'd visited in his past and for all the faces he'd become acquainted with under a different name, Neal had only ever felt a sense of belonging with a small handful of people. Kate was one of them, but so was everyone sitting in this room. He trusted them. They were important to him.

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After dinner, Peter and Neal volunteered to clean up while June, Elizabeth, Samantha, and Mozzie relaxed in the living room. Neal soaped the dishes before handing them over to Peter to rinse. They worked in a companionable silence for several minutes until Peter broke the lull.

He was hesitant. "Is everything okay, Neal?"

Neal was surprised. "Yes. Why do you ask?" He eyed Peter curiously.

Peter shrugged, absentmindedly rinsing the same bowl twice. "No reason. You're quiet and you're not badgering me about anything. That's unusual."

Neal decided not to question his motives further, but smiled winningly instead. "Well, everything's fine. I'm just enjoying the holiday."

And if there were a million thoughts running through his mind at this very moment, Peter didn't need to know about them.

"You missed a spot."

"No, I didn't. You didn't scrub this plate properly."

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On the Monday following the long weekend, Neal received a text from Alex as he explained the mechanics of a lapping scheme to Peter, Jones, and Lauren. She had sent him a time and location and she expected him to be punctual, so he brushed off Peter's inquiries with an insignificant white lie. If he felt guilty for deceiving his partner, he made sure not to let it show.

That night, Neal shared Alex's message with Mozzie. His heart soared at the thought of rescuing Kate from Fowler's clutches at long last. He was confident that he could retrieve the music box with little to no hassle. Within days, he would be free of his anklet. He was elated – although Peter's, Elizabeth's, and June's faces immediately sprung to his mind – but Mozzie was determined to bring him back to reality, citing the implausibility of a fairytale ending for people in their line of work.

But it had to be possible. After months of searching, fear, and despondency, the solution to Neal's heartache finally lay within his reach. He and Kate would have their happy ending.

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_Happily ever after isn't for guys like us._

_It is this time_, Neal assured himself. _It is_.

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**Thank you for reading! As always, if you have the time to do so, please leave a review. I'm thankful for your comments and constructive criticism. Happy holidays!**


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